


Premium Patented Daydream Charms

by Chaotic_Smutty (Anna_Hopkins)



Series: Wizard Wheezes [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (dubcon happens in a daydream), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Crack, Dubious Consent, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Harry Discovers He Has A Fetish, Implied Consent, Kink Discovery, M/M, Master/Servant, Patented Daydream Charms (Harry Potter), Some Plot, Spanking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:28:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28136958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anna_Hopkins/pseuds/Chaotic_Smutty
Summary: "Fred and I heard you and Gin are on the outs-""-for real this time-""-and, sorry to say it, we're not exactly surprised-""-but at least let us cheer you up-""-with our newest invention-""-Premium Patented Daydream Charms."
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort
Series: Wizard Wheezes [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1728475
Comments: 23
Kudos: 194





	1. Prologue: A Most Auspicious Gift

_"Happy birthday, Harry!" said Hermione, hurrying into the kitchen and adding her own present to the top of the pile. "It's not much, but I hope you like it. What did you get him?" she added to Ron, who seemed not to hear her._

_"Come on, then, open Hermione's!" said Ron._

_She had bought him a new Sneakoscope. The other packages contained an enchanted razor from Bill and Fleur ("Ah yes, zis will give you ze smoothest shave you will ever 'ave," Monsieur Delacour assured him, "but you must tell it clearly what you want... ozzerwise you might find you 'ave a leetle less hair zan you would like..."), chocolates from the Delacours, and an enormous box of the latest Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes merchandise from Fred and George-_

Not long after the gifts were opened, the twins managed to get Harry alone long enough to press a second box into his hands. "What are you-" Harry began, but was interrupted by Fred clapping a hand over his mouth. (It smelled like chocolate.)

"Harry, our illustrious investor," said Fred-

“Saviour of our business if nothing else-” George chimed in-

"Hear us out a moment, will you?" Fred sent darting glances to either side. "This here is some premium merchandise, if you will-"

"The kind we don't sell in the shop-"

Harry stared at the box, the lid of which was attached with just a hinge and a latch. "What is it, then?" he asked (since Fred had uncovered his mouth in order to gesticulate wildly).

"Well, we were getting to that," George scratched the back of his neck, sheepish. "Look, Fred and I heard you and Gin are on the outs-"

"-for real this time-"

"-and, sorry to say it, we're not exactly surprised-"

"-it's just how Gin is, 'kay-"

(-Harry winced-)

"-but at least let us cheer you up-"

"-with our newest invention-"

Fred reached over and flicked the latch open, revealing several dozen.. squares of purple parchment? "Premium Patented Daydream Charms," he explained, tone conspiratorial.

"What makes it different from the regular Daydream Charms?" Harry had tried a couple of them last year; getting to pretend he was on the Quidditch pitch instead of listening to Ron and Hermione bicker had been nice.

"These are from a, ahem, different collection," Fred announced, plucking one Charm from the box. "We call them the 'Weasleys' Wildest Wizard Wheezes' - enchanted items sold only to those of age."

"The store's on Knockturn," George added helpfully. "If that gives you an idea of the clientele."

Harry blinked. "So the daydreams in these charms-"

"They're the lewd version, yeah," Fred nodded.

"You know, you could've just said that from the beginning," Harry rolled his eyes, grinning. "Are they labeled by what daydream they make?" The Patented Daydream Charms sold in WWW were pre-designed, after all. He squinted, into the box.

"They aren't, actually," George said, to his surprise. "We reinvented the Charm entirely for this version."

"Makes up anything you like and nothing you don't!"

Harry arched his eyebrows. "Isn't this a lot of them, then?" he had to ask. These had to be expensive to produce, no matter how well they sold. "You didn't have to get me two gifts, guys."

"Nonsense!" Fred clapped him on the shoulder. "The only thing is-"

"Don't use more than one in twelve hours-"

"Or during the wedding, Mum'll kill us!"

Then they walked off, leaving Harry alone with the box, thumbing over the latch that held it closed.

He'd meant to try a Charm overnight, but ended up being so exhausted before the wedding that he was asleep before he thought of it. In fact, for a while, Harry forgot about the box of daydreams entirely: between the attack on the wedding and the subsequent encounter with Death Eaters in the middle of London, he didn't think to use a charm for several days after he first received them.

So it was that the first night Harry took out a square of purple parchment and tore it in half to activate it, he was lying on the floor against a wall of Number Twelve's drawing room under a Muffliato, while Hermione and Ron shared the couch and its cushions; and then-

Then he was in a much different position, in a much different place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Minor edit made a couple hours after posting the chapter - had to crosscheck something in the timeline.)


	2. The First Dream.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Premium Patented Daydream Charms are supposed to be "everything you like, and nothing you don't". Harry isn't sure Fred and George got the spell right.

For a minute, he actually thought he'd jumped into a Pensieve memory, or fallen asleep to have a real dream: he didn't have complete control over what he was doing as he walked down a winding path through a manicured garden, up to a stately manor's front door.

The Charm supplied context as he grasped the bronze door knocker: he was here for.. a job interview? As a domestic servant. For.. someone. (The dream was making it up as he went, apparently.) This was one of the largest estates in Magical Britain; and he'd come on the recommendation of one Draco Malfoy, with whom he'd graduated Hogwarts a year prior, when his last employer died unexpectedly.

The door opened to reveal an unfamiliar figure in a very crisp butler's uniform, down to the pressed coattails. The head servant, Avery - whether it was his first or last name, Harry didn't know offhand. "Good day, sir," Harry found himself saying, "I'm here for a three o'clock interview."

Avery looked him up and down. "Indeed. With me, Mr. Potter." Ah, so he had his own name still. He stepped in, wiping his shoes on the mat, and followed Avery through the gorgeous front room down a neat, tall hallway to what was evidently the head servant's office.

Internally, Harry wondered when the lewd part of the dream was supposed to start; he'd kind of expected the Charm to get right to it. Instead, he was being seated in a slightly uncomfortable chair across a large desk from Avery, and subjected to a review of his work history.

"Harry James Potter. You graduated Hogwarts two years ago. And in the interval?"

"Odd jobs between my seventh year and the present, sir." Harry was saying hands clasped in his lap, careful to show none of his building confusion as to the point of this daydream, as he most certainly did not get off to  _ this. _ "Bartender, shop clerk, briefly a personal assistant."

"Ah, yes, I heard about that last." Avery dipped his chin in a solemn nod. "And you were referred to the Lord's estate afterward?"

"Yes, sir. My yearmate, Draco Malfoy, suggested I apply, as he is soon to begin his Potions apprenticeship." At least dream-Harry's memory of Malfoy was little different from reality: they'd been rivals, so the surprisingly polite letter had led him to wonder if the suggestion had some malice to it, but having taken time to investigate the estate's reputation before he owled them about seeking work, it was clear that general consensus saw the lord of the estate as an ideal employer. Pay and compensation as handsome as his face, rumors went - which was to say,  _ very  _ handsome.

(Ah, so that was what this dream was getting at, was it? Harry was glad he already knew he liked blokes.)

Avery steepled his fingers on the table, gaze assessing. "Draco  _ has  _ spoken of you recently," he murmured. "And your references have been adequately glowing - too bad, really, that the most relevant position you have listed is unavailable for comment."

Harry let out a small sigh.  _ I was more interested in saving her life than getting a bloody reference, _ he thought - wow, this dream really had him pegged, didn't it? "I cannot speak for the Madam's opinion of me, sir, but I do have several more years-" decades, actually "-of experience in housekeeping, kitchen work, and gardening which I left out of my curriculum vitae."

An eyebrow lifted. "And why is that?"

"They were Muggles, and unwilling to acknowledge me beyond giving me a place to sleep." So, not much different than Harry's reality. Harry frowned slightly, remembering being booted from Privet Drive the summer before seventh year, with only the clothes on his back and the contents of his trunk and school satchel, before refocusing on Avery, whose commiserating sneer at the concept of Muggles was one this Harry didn't exactly disagree with.

"Well." The head servant rose from his seat, clasping his hands behind his back. "As it happens, that experience is an additional asset; you would know from young Draco that the estate is cleaned and maintained without the use of magic per the Lord's instructions. I should hope he will be most pleased. Come, I will introduce you to the Lord in his office upstairs."

With that, Avery swept from the room at a brisk pace, leading Harry down the corridor, up a flight of stairs, and down a larger hallway which had floor-to-ceiling windows down one side to let the sunlight in. They passed painted landscapes and sculptures on pedestals, the kind of thing Harry didn't think possibly existed in real life and which made him uncomfortably aware of the less-than-pristine state of his best clothing - the slightly worn, grey and black uniform that was all he'd had left of his previous job besides the salary.

_ -green spellfire, the thunderous noise of stone walls breaking and glass windows shattering- _

Harry didn't have time to wonder why the daydream charm was making up such an elaborate backstory, much as he admired the spellwork, for Avery had stopped before a set of well-polished double doors, knocking three times just above the doorknob. "Master, an applicant to be interviewed," the head servant called.

"Enter," came the muffled response, and they did.

The lord's office was a vast, open space more like a hall than a single room, vaguely reminiscent of the Hogwarts library; Harry took in the two-story ceiling, the staircases leading up to the second level of bookshelves, the tall windows on either side, all the way down to the center, where there stood a wide, ornate wooden desk, until his eyes lit on the desk's occupant-

Well, there went the answer to Harry's question of how much shock would wake him up from the daydream - more than he was capable of, it seemed. For there, leaning back in a large armchair, sat the most stunningly beautiful man Harry had ever imagined. _ Photos didn't do him justice, _ dream-Harry was thinking.  _ He's even more handsome in person. _

"Lord Voldemort," dream-Harry greeted, sinking into a bow he'd practiced extensively ahead of time. "Good afternoon, sir."

This was -  _ what? _ Harry's mind reeled. There had to be something wrong with the Daydream Charm. Or did it just borrow names for characters from Harry's reality? 'Avery' was somebody's name, after all-

Dream-Voldemort let him remain bowed for the moment, addressing the head servant instead. "Avery. My schedule for the day?"

"It is cleared, master."

"And Draco?"

"Resting, master. Shall I call for him?"

"No, no." A faint creaking; Voldemort was leaning back in the chair. "It is his day off. I was only curious. Dismissed."

A murmured 'yes, master' marked Avery's departure, the door closing and - locking? - with a dull click behind him. Harry was getting a bit sore from standing bowed like this, but Draco had been very specific in the letter not to stand until he was given leave, if he wished the job; and dream-Harry really wanted the job, for some reason.

The silence stretched out over another minute or so, and then: "You may rise," murmured handsome-Voldemort. "I see Draco has coached you in this. He spoke highly of you as his potential replacement."

Harry found his gaze drawn to Voldemort's face when he straightened up, lingering on the unnatural, vivid red of his eyes - the only truly inhuman part of him. Had the Daydream Charm extrapolated on his memories of the Tom Riddle from the Diary to create this man? He couldn't bring himself to look away. "I was surprised to hear from him," he admitted, "but grateful, sir."

"Hm." Voldemort summoned a teacup to his hand from one of the tables further away from his desk. Harry wondered - as both his real self and his dream counterpart - if there was a reason for the no-magic rule, or if it was just a way for him to maintain power over his subordinates for his own amusement. For dream-Harry it was a fleeting idea; real Harry thought it all too likely. "What did Draco explain of the duties expected of my staff? Avery has already informed you that work is done by hand."

The job description Draco had outlined in his letter was fairly standard servant work, as far as Harry could tell, and he recited it as prompted, noticing a brief, pleased smirk that crossed Voldemort's features as he did. "That is correct," the man acknowledged, and was Harry hearing things or had his voice gotten a little lower? "-for my general staff, who operate largely under Avery's supervision, and receive the standard compensation. Astute of Draco not to presume to know my tastes," he added more quietly, and Harry suspected he wasn't meant to have heard that part.

He took a final sip of his tea, then set the cup down, leaning back in his chair.  _ "Harry," _ the name poured off his lips, sweet and dark, and Harry twitched to hear it spoken in such a way, cheeks warming. "I would like to make you a second offer."

What- what kind of offer? Harry blinked at him, biting his lip just the tiniest bit. "In addition to the general staff position, sir?" Was his voice a little.. breathier? Than it was meant to be?

"Precisely. Bear in mind, you can reject the second offer with no impact on the first - I believe you would be a fine addition to my staff either way, and you have indicated that the pay and benefits afforded to general staff are agreeable in your initial letter to Avery." Harry nodded. "Good. Now, if you find yourself amenable to the additional terms listed here," Voldemort slid a contract onto his desk, covered with a splayed hand that drew attention to his well-manicured nails, "you may elect to serve on my personal staff, for a flat doubling of all compensation and benefits."

_ Double? _ Harry hoped his expression didn't give away his astonishment. (And when had there stopped being a disconnect between dream-Harry and real Harry?) "May I.. see the terms, sir?" he asked, glancing between the parchment and the Lord that held it.

A cat-like smile, there and gone in a blink of his eye. "Certainly, Harry," Voldemort agreed, letting go of the parchment. "Take your time."

Harry approached the desk to read, leaning on his elbows to squint at the small, neat lettering. He was peripherally aware of the man getting up from his desk and walking away, but his attention was on the words before him, the elegant calligraphy so in contrast to what it actually  _ said- _

_..duties of a carnal nature, to be discussed between the servant and the Master... _

Heat blossomed over Harry's face and neck. What was it Voldemort had said earlier - that Draco didn't presume to know his  _ tastes? _

"You see, Harry," murmured Voldemort from just behind him, "why I do not make this offer lightly, or disguise it from you prior to your signature as some of my.. contemporaries.. have done. No nobleman is truly civilized in this age, for all that I may try to be above such weaknesses." A sigh stirred the hair at the nape of Harry's neck. He shivered, just a little.

The thing was, nothing Voldemort was saying was untrue. Harry had made inquiries about other households before this one, while he still had his pay from the last contract to draw upon, and been warned of all manner of flaws - from gambling to addictions to habitual cruelties and mysterious disappearances. Every noble with any wealth to them had such vices; it was practically a curse.

And so if Lord Voldemort, whose staff so sung his praises, had a proclivity for indulgence in his servants' bodies - at least, Harry thought, swallowing, he sought only the  _ willing _ ones.

Was Harry.. willing?

His eyes lit on the next clause. "This portion of the contract can be cancelled at any time, sir?" Harry read aloud. "I would just transition into the general staff?" Not be fired?

"Correct," Voldemort said, leaning in to read over Harry's shoulder. Harry could feel his body heat against his back, and licked his lips, his mouth gone dry.

"And if I signed," Harry continued, voice quieter, "the contract would take effect - immediately? Sir?"

"It would."

Merlin, that  _ voice. _ Harry bit his lip, glancing about for a quill.

"I gather," Voldemort murmured in his ear, the rich smell of his cologne filling Harry's nose, "you are amenable?"

Warm fingers laid a familiar black quill in his hand. Harry felt his breath hitch at the light, fleeting touch. Voldemort had already signed at the very bottom of the page, he saw; and as he laid quill to parchment, scribed  _ Harry James Potter _ on the space left for him, he gasped not at the pain of the blood quill's inscription but at the press of lips to the back of his neck-

_ "Yes-" _

Harry flinched awake from the daydream, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling and  _ achingly _ hard like he'd never been before.

"What," he breathed, covering his face with a hand, "what the fuck-"

But the real thought in his head was,  _ I wanted to see what happened next. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for this chapter: brief mention of noncon as a symptom of systemic social inequality - not involving any characters who will appear in the story.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll put relevant content warnings in the endnotes of each chapter for those who want them; this chapter doesn't have any, being a prologue. It'll earn the E rating soon, I swear ♥


End file.
